Bulbing and Tilling
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-- Tryon Edwards
Thanks to Liz for the quote. After spending three weeks thinking about my 2007 goals, I find myself wanting to bury them in the earth and start again.
You know when you think you're heading in Direction A, which is founded on your longing for, passion for and ambition for said goal/process/activity? And then in the middle (or beginning) of going about your happy li'l life and routine, you're suddenly scratching your head and wondering, Why the F-- am I doing this again? Do I like this, do I feel loving and happy and breezy and frilly? Or cranky and closed and tired? Have I already shed my snakey skin to desire something new? Or is it not a desire FOR something new, but a desire to GO ABOUT IT in a new way: from focused and serious to more playful and romantic?
So just as I got my lists and charts and workout logs and all that org-crap I'm terrible at laid out, now I'm thinking of shredding it all and trying something new. New?
There's the story of the wise man, Solomon, who advised his newly free, devoted servant, Don't take the new road home.
As the slave traveled home after a 20-year absence, he met a posse of adventures who invited him to join them and take a different route. He was tempted but remembered his master's advice. He continued on the old familiar path and soon after leaving his pals,heard their screams and cries, as they were killed by banditos. So, taking the old way home saved his life. But how does this translate to an existential query, circa 2007?
Maybe we should look at our lives as a story--or a mystery--that the answers we seek are left in clues and breadcrumbs within the map of our already-lived lives.
What if we already are the treasure we're looking for?
Painting, "Village Stairs," by Van Gogh